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I trust, Mr Coroner, that I have been clear in my statement. I try always to make a habit of orderly and incisive thinking.
Yes, yes, quite. Now, Mr Harrison, one or two questions …
At your service, Mr Coroner.
When you were describing just now how at Mrs Brunton’s request you fetched her son and daughter, you started to use the word ‘rouse’ and then apparently changed your mind.
Exactly, Mr Coroner. I felt, as I said it, that perhaps ‘rouse’ was not the correct word. It might imply that Mrs Bayford and Mr Adrian Brunton were asleep, whereas in fact they were not.
Did you enter their rooms?
Mr Brunton’s, yes. I gave one tap at the door and entered rather unceremoniously. Mr Brunton was kneeling upon the window seat looking out of the window. He had a dressing-gown on but had only substituted this, I saw, for his dinner jacket.
What did he do when you came in? Can you tell the Court his reaction to your entry and your bad news?
Certainly. When I went in—as I have said, rather unceremoniously, I fear—Mr Brunton got up and turned round to face me. Before I could speak he said: ‘What the hell do you want?’ I should perhaps explain that Mr Brunton has always seemed—for what reason I am sure I cannot think—to dislike me.
Did he seem excited when he said this?
A difficult question, Mr Coroner. Mr Adrian Brunton is a young man of—er—mercurial temperament. He is normally excitable. It certainly did not strike me that there was anything unusual—for him—in his reception of me, though naturally I resented his incivility.
You say Mr Brunton was looking out of his window? If my recollection of the plan is correct, this would mean that he was looking out over the gardens to Rajah Square—
That is correct. Mr Adrian Brunton’s room is at the back of the house; that is, the northern side—
Please let me conclude my question before answering, Mr Harrison. I was about to ask you if you gathered from Mr Adrian Brunton’s position as you entered the room any indication of whether he was merely idly looking out into the gardens or looking out for, or at, any particular object?
I am afraid it is impossible for me to say. No sooner had I entered the room than he was off the window seat and had turned to face me.
Thank you. Please proceed. You were about to tell the Court in answer to my question what Mr Brunton’s reaction was to your bad news?
He seemed dazed. In fact, for a moment I wondered whether he had heard me. I said ‘Don’t you understand, Mr Brunton? Your father is dead—has been killed! …’
Yes, Mr Harrison? Please don’t hesitate. What then?
I suppose that in this Court I must repeat the exact words which were used. After I had told him a second time Mr Brunton caught me by the shoulder and shook me violently. He said: ‘You bloody little bastard! That’s a lie!’ I managed not to allow my very natural resentment to overcome my good sense. I managed to make Mr Brunton understand that I was in deadly earnest. He then put out his arm and brushed me aside. I followed him out into the corridor. He had opened the study door, which of course was just at his right as he came out of his own room, and was standing on the threshold, staring. I said: ‘Mr Brunton! Mr Brunton! We must leave things as they are until the Police come.’ He muttered some oath or other which I did not catch and I think was going into the study, but at that moment he heard Mrs Brunton’s voice calling him from the other end of the corridor. She was just outside Mrs Bayford’s room. He turned and ran back. I followed.
As I passed the stairhead Mrs Bayford came out of her room. I think she was following her mother. She was fully dressed, but not in the gown which she had worn at dinner. I remember she had in her hand a fountain pen, because I offered to take it from her and put it down. She had obviously already heard the news. She stared at me as though I were not there. I repeated my offer, but she turned away without a word and began speaking with her brother.
So you are not in a position, Mr Harrison, to tell us Mrs Bayford’s immediate reaction to her father’s death?
No, sir. As I was breaking the dreadful news to Mr Adrian Brunton, Mrs Brunton must have been with her daughter.
I see. Now, you say that when you did see Mrs Bayford—when she came out of her room—and you and Mr Brunton and Mrs Brunton were standing in the corridor, she seemed dazed when you spoke to her?
I did not use the word ‘dazed,’ Mr Coroner. Mrs Bayford certainly was not in a normal state, for, as a rule, she is a lady of most charming manner, and, as I have explained, she did not seem to hear my offer of assistance. But although she was not herself, I do not think it would be right for me to use the word ‘dazed.’ She seemed in a way peculiarly alert. It was she, for instance, who called Mr Hargreaves, outside whose room we all were standing at the moment. She rapped on the door, and it was immediately opened. Mr Hargreaves was in pyjamas and a dressing-gown. From his appearance I should say that he had been in bed. The terrible situation was explained to him, and it was after that that we—
One moment, Mr Harrison, one moment! Please tell the Court who it was who conveyed the news to Mr Hargreaves.
Mrs Bayford. I can remember her exact words, I think, Mr Coroner. She laid her hand on Mr Hargreaves’s arm, and she said: ‘Oh, Jack dear! A frightful thing has happened … Father—Father—’ and then she seemed to break down for a moment. Mr Hargreaves caught her hands, and he said: ‘Claire! Claire! What’s this?’ or some words like that. And then Mrs Bayford seemed to take command of herself again. She said, ‘Father’s dead. He’s been … he’s been killed.’ And it was after that that we all—
One moment, Mr Harrison! It’s very important that the Court should appreciate the relationship in which the persons staying at the house stood to each other. It is also very important that you should tell us, as much as you can, of each person’s reaction on their hearing the news. Will you please tell us, first, of Mr Hargreaves’s demeanour when Mrs Bayford had explained the tragedy to him, and secondly, what you know of the relationship between these two. I understood you to say that Mrs Bayford called Mr Hargreaves ‘Jack dear,’ and that he in return used her Christian name.
To take your first question, Mr Coroner, Mr Hargreaves, on hearing the dreadful news, seemed—and quite naturally—utterly astonished. He made some ejaculation—‘Good God!’ I think it was—but when this astonishment had passed he seemed mostly concerned with the effect of the tragedy upon Mrs Bayford.
In answer to your second question, Mr Coroner, I can only say that, not being a member of the family, and, as Mr Brunton’s secretary, naturally not being in the confidence of any of the rest of the family, I can only give you my own, as it were, casual impressions. I have always understood that Mr Hargreaves is an old friend of Mrs Bayford; and this visit was the first time I had ever come into personal contact with Mr Hargreaves, but I had frequently heard mention of him. I have always understood that Mr Hargreaves and Mrs Bayford knew each other from childhood right up to the time when Mrs Bayford married, two years ago, but that after that Mr Hargreaves went abroad. I believe he only returned a little while ago.
I see. You cannot tell us, I suppose, whether there had ever been any talk of a marriage between Mrs Bayford and Mr Hargreaves?
I have no information upon that point, Mr Coroner. Such matters are not any business of mine, and I am afraid that I make a strict rule of never prying into matters which do not concern me.
Most commendable, I’m sure! Can you tell the Court anything of the relations between Mr Hargreaves and the rest of the family?
There, sir, I may be of a little more use. Three days before his death Mr Maxwell Brunton referred in my presence to the forthcoming visit of Mr Hargreaves. He came into the study where I was working on his letters and asked me to cancel an appointment he had made for dinner on the Thursday night. From the way in which he worded his directions I gathered that he was not looking forward with any degree of pleasure to Mr Hargreaves’s visit. So far as the other members of the family are—
Just one moment, Mr Harrison! Can you remember the exact words used by Mr Maxwell Brunton in regard to Mr Hargreaves on this occasion you have just told us of?
Mr Brunton made no direct reference to Mr Hargreaves personally, but he said—I’m afraid I cannot remember the exact words—something like this: ‘That’ll be young Hargreaves’s first night here. Blast it!’ And then later, discussing some appointment for the Saturday he said again: ‘Hargreaves will still be here. Damn it!’ or some words like that … What I am trying to show, Mr Coroner, is that while Mr Brunton did not make any ill-natured reference to Mr Hargreaves personally, he did seem to find the forthcoming visit of Mr Hargreaves far from—how shall I put it?—far more awkward than he would have a visit of any other person. He was not a man who was given to being put out merely by the presence of an extra person in the house.
I see … Have you any further questions, gentlemen, that you would like me to put to this witness at this stage? … I beg your pardon? … Perhaps, sir, if you would get the foreman to put the question formally …
Mr Coroner, a member of the jury wishes me to ask whether the witness has any comment to offer on the evidence of the police sergeant or any addition to that evidence in regard to the other guest, Miss Lamort, and her collapse on hearing the news of deceased’s death.
I see. Mr Harrison, you heard the foreman, I think. Perhaps you would give a reply to that question.
I have nothing to add, sir, to the police sergeant’s remarks. I went, as described by the police sergeant, with him to wake Miss Lamort. As he stated, when we told her the news she seemed extremely agitated. During the very few moments she took to attire herself I kept hearing her mutter—we had not quite closed the door—‘My God! My God!’ This was said in a kind of moaning voice, very distressing to hear. When Miss Lamort came downstairs and rushed to Mrs Brunton for comfort, she seemed to collapse completely. She seemed terribly upset. She seemed not to take the news of the calamity nearly so stoically as the members of Mr Brunton’s family. I should perhaps add that throughout the whole of the following day she was confined to her room, during which time she was, so the servants inform me, unable to take any food. I went once or twice myself past her room on that day, and each time I could hear her moaning and muttering words which I could not catch, as I was, of course, merely passing her door about my business … There is no doubt that the tragedy affected her very, very deeply.
I see. Thank you, Mr Harrison. I was going to ask you to stand down just before the jury put that last question to you. Looking down my notes, however, I find there is one further question which I myself wish to put. I’m sorry to keep you so long.
Not at all! Not at all! I am here to do my duty.
Quite! Quite! The last question is this: Was it your habit, as confidential private secretary to Mr Brunton, always to knock at the study door if you thought he was inside the study?
Certainly not, sir! The study was my place of work, and anyhow, if I may say so, it is only household servants who are required to knock at such doors before entering.
And yet, Mr Harrison, during your evidence you made the following statement: you had just said that on your way to the study on Thursday night, or, rather, Friday morning, you saw a light beneath the study door, and then you added, ‘I assumed that Mr Brunton was engaged and so knocked at the door before entering.’ Will you please explain this seeming contradiction to what you have just told the Court?
You put me in a truly embarrassing position, Mr Coroner. I come up here and strive to the best of my ability to give my evidence simply, concisely and above all, truthfully—
Quite, quite! Will you please answer the question? Is the Court to take it that you assume that your employer would not like you to go in at such a time as that without knocking?
If you insist upon my answering that question, Mr Coroner, yes.
You are here to answer questions, Mr Harrison. Will you please now tell the Court the reason for supposing that Mr Brunton would like warning of your entry?
I must answer that question?
Of course. May I suggest, Mr Harrison, that you do not waste our time and your own? So far you have shown no disinclination either to answer questions or to add your own quota to your answers. May I suggest that you continue in this manner?
Very well, sir. Since you insist—since you insist, I say—upon an answer to this question of yours, I am in duty bound to give you an answer. I knocked upon Mr Brunton’s study door because I thought Mr Brunton might not be alone.
And yet, although your errand to the study was only a question of making a diary entry which you had forgotten, you did not, when you saw the light and thought that Mr Brunton might be engaged, go away again without making your presence known?
Really, Mr Coroner, I must take leave to know my own business best! I gave every satisfaction to Mr Brunton—the length of my sojourn with him is enough guarantee of that. I trust that I know my position and what, in that position, I may or may not do. I thought Mr Brunton might be engaged, but, equally, it was possible that he was only, as he very often was until very early hours, reading or writing.
Quite! Quite! Who, Mr Harrison, did you think might be engaged with Mr Brunton? His son? His wife? His daughter?
I am afraid, Mr Coroner, that such conjectures did not enter my head. I am a man who makes a practice of never concerning himself unduly with the private affairs of others, especially those of the employer to whom he owes loyalty.
You had no idea, then, Mr Harrison, of who might be with Mr Brunton? You did not, for instance, listen a moment to see … Please do not misunderstand me. I am not making a suggestion of eavesdropping. You did not, I suppose, listen for a moment to hear if there were voices, or whether you could distinguish those voices?
Most emphatically not, sir!
Thank you.
I would like to say at this juncture—
Please do not trouble, Mr Harrison. I think I can now ask you to stand down—that is, of course, unless any member of the jury has any further questions which he wishes to put to you … I beg your pardon? … Please speak up …
Mr Harrison, I’m not sure whether you heard the question of the jury. They wish to know whether, when you knocked, you expected the person who might be engaged with Mr Brunton to be a man or a woman?
Really, Mr Coroner! I am afraid I am not familiar with this kind of procedure, but I cannot think that it is customary or permissible to—
Mr Harrison, I wish you would get it into your head that this is a court of inquiry. The object of the inquiry is to ascertain how Mr Maxwell Brunton met his death. Petty private feelings and even the ordinary social shibboleths are out of place. When, as a witness, you are asked a question, it is your duty to answer that question as succinctly as you can. I will repeat it in another form: When you knocked on the study door because you thought Mr Maxwell Brunton was ‘engaged,’ did any thought cross your mind as to the sex of his possible companion? Now, please, Mr Harrison, we don’t want your opinion; we want your answer.
Yes, Mr Coroner. I thought that Mr Brunton might have—might have—er—a lady with him.
What lady? Mrs Brunton? Please confine yourself solely to answering my question.
No, not Mrs Brunton. Mrs Brunton is—er—Mrs Brunton hardly ever went into the study.
Who then?
I cannot say, Mr Coroner.
Do you mean ‘can not’ or ‘will not’?
I am not in the habit, Mr Coroner, of using a word in its wrong place. If I say ‘cannot,’ I mean I am unable.
So you intend to inform the Court, first, that you did not think this possible visitor of Mr Brunton’s could be Mrs Brunton, and, second, that it might be any other person of the female sex?
. . . . . .
Come, come, Mr Harrison! Please give us your answer!
As you insist, Mr Coroner, yes.
Do you mean to tell the Court that you thought it possible that a woman other than one of those in the house could be with Mr Brunton?
Good heavens, no! What are you suggesting?
Please spare us your indignation, Mr Harrison. If you did not think, then, that this possible visitor could be a woman from outside, and yet you thought that it was a woman, will you please tell the Court which female member of the household you thought most likely—
Really, Mr Coroner, I cannot—
Please, Mr Harrison! You must remember, sir, if you are at all uncomfortable, that, really, you have brought this upon yourself. Please give an answer to my question. I gather from the general trend of your evidence that the possible woman was not Mrs Brunton nor Mrs Bayford. That leaves us, I think, with Miss Lamort and the servants, Mrs Jennings, Jeannette Bokay, and Violet Burrage—
Really, Mr Coroner! I must emphatically state at this point that any conjectures I may have had on the subject did not go so far as the identity of the possible person.
You are certain of that, Mr Harrison?
Positive, sir! Positive!
Very well, Mr Harrison. We will now cease, I hope, to embarrass you. You were Mr Brunton’s confidential secretary. You must therefore have had manifold opportunities for observing Mr Brunton’s temperament, character, and ways. That is so?
Obviously, sir.
Very well, then! Perhaps you would tell the Court whether you had noticed anything unusual in Mr Maxwell Brunton’s demeanour at any time, say, within the month preceding his death.
Emphatically, no, Mr Coroner. Mr Brunton was always a volatile personality. He was, if you take my meaning, gay one moment and dour the next. But I knew him very well, and a more generous, more understanding or more considerate employer one could not wish for. I was with Mr Brunton for a considerable period …
Yes, yes! Please will you confine yourself to answering the question? Are we to understand that you had noticed nothing unusual in Mr Brunton’s behaviour at any time immediately prior to his death?
You are, sir.
There was no depression, then? No fear, no private or public trouble which Mr Brunton told you about or which you got to know of in any way?
Until the day of his death, no, sir. And, I suppose, really nothing outstanding upon that day. You have cautioned me, Mr Coroner, because you appear to think that I give unduly long and inapposite answers, and therefore I had better perhaps confine myself to stating that—
Come, come! Please! Are we to gather that there was some unusual depression on the part of Mr Brunton on the day of his death, or some unusual and unpleasant happening?
I was striving, Mr Coroner, to answer your question to the best of my ability. I do not want to exaggerate any of the matters or to minimise them. I simply seek to do my duty. On the day of his death Mr Brunton was worried. I am afraid that I am cognisant of the cause of this worry—perhaps I should use the plural because it was worries and not worry. On that day it came to my knowledge that Mr Brunton had various—er—how shall I put it?—disagreements with members of his family. Nothing serious, of course, and really, if you had not asked such specific questions, I should not have thought these things worth mentioning.
With whom were these disagreements, Mr Harrison?
Perhaps, Mr Coroner, ‘disagreements’ was too strong a word, and really, you know, I cannot see that mere family breezes, shall I say, can have—
Mr Harrison! What you can or cannot see is no doubt interesting. The Court, however, merely wishes for facts. With whom, to your knowledge, did Mr Brunton, upon the day preceding the morning of his death, have these disagreements?
There was one small disagreement, Mr Coroner, with Mrs Brunton, and another with Mr Adrian Brunton.
When did the disagreement with Mrs Brunton take place?
It was hardly a disagreement—I beg your pardon, Mr Coroner—I will confine myself to facts. At about eleven o’clock in the morning Mrs Brunton—a most unusual thing for her—came to the study. She stated that she wished to speak to Mr Brunton privately, and of course I immediately left the room. As I did so Mr Brunton called after me, ‘We must get that McGuinness affair settled, Harrison. Come back in ten minutes.’ I returned after ten minutes. Mrs Brunton, as I got to the door, was just coming out of it. I noticed that she had—that she had been shedding a few tears. Mr Brunton was walking up and down with his hands behind his back. He was—a trick of his when disturbed—muttering indistinguishably to himself. However, immediately he caught sight of me he became his old self, and we proceeded with our work.
That was the first little affair. The second—Mr Adrian Brunton’s—took place in the afternoon. I had been out for my constitutional, and I came back as usual about three-thirty. I had understood that Mr Brunton was not to be at home that afternoon, and naturally I went, after I had put up my hat and stick, straight to the study. As I drew near the door I became aware that Mr Brunton had not gone out after all. I heard his voice raised, apparently in anger. I hesitated a moment, not quite knowing whether I should go forward or tactfully retire. As I was, in fact, retiring, I heard another voice which I knew for Mr Adrian Brunton’s. That, too, was raised. It was even louder than Mr Brunton’s. It was uttering violent remarks of some description. Of course, I beat a very hasty retreat in order that I should not even inadvertently overhear anything not intended for my ears.
I see. Then you can give the Court no idea, Mr Harrison, of what either of the disputants were saying?
